What Becomes of Snow

This is a confusing love story. It shows how not even the most successful person is truyl happy. After all, all we need is love.

He was cold. Nothing ever satisfied him; Nobody could make him happy. His frigid attitude appealed to everyone, And his face was pleasant People loved the briskness of his speech and appearance. He was fake nice; Hopeless

Different he felt when he awoke, one bleak morning He liked different. He smiled as he stared at his snow pale skin

He was a student teacher Not on top of his list, He sighed. A shallow voice spoke, Sensei? Gazing upon her face. Her eyes glistening To the dashing anarchist figure.

The figure Beautiful as can be. With fairylike black hair And with a forge winsome Smirk on her face.

If you're going to preach to me Don't waste your time, I don't have time for damn teachers!

Her plumb lips And keen witted face Expressed no joy Whatsoever.

With a cold raw expression He asked, Why are you so angry?

Why should you care? Her eyes melting Every part of iciness That was in him.

Her eyes glistening Upon his face Waiting for an answer.

His fabricated smirk Turned into a spring tide smile.

I am just curious

Her eyes formed Springy raindrops; His heart melted.

He took her hand, Leaving winter behind Entering the vernal season.

Between seasons He fell in love with her. Her breeze Touched every Part of him; He loved her.

He was the rigor winter; She was the brisk spring

What becomes of snow after winter? He asked his Blackberry winter once.

Her plum lips forming A bright decorous smile, She answered It becomes spring!

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